Every New Beginning: Firsts
by alkali-feldspar
Summary: In response to my dear angelgrl028's challenge, this is a series of firsts for the relationship between Gio and Betty. Each chapter will be a new first. Chapter One is devoted to the kiss.


**Disclaimer**: _I'm a fangirl, just trying to spread the Gio love and make my Getty Girls smile. I'm in no way affiliated with Ugly Betty or ABC and no copyright infringement is intended._

**Rating**: T

**Summary**: _In response to my dear angelgrl028's challenge, this is a series of firsts for the relationship between Gio and Betty. Each chapter will be a new first. Chapter One is devoted to the kiss._

**Author's Note**: _I've struggled for days on this fic and finally, finally it comes to me at 4am. Maybe I'm a writer after all._ _I've taken liberties from the promo pics for 2.17, The Kids Are Alright—I have no way of knowing how these events may line up in reality, but hey, I did say "taken liberties," so I'm allowed. ;)_

* * *

He can tell she's still reluctant, but they had spent almost the whole evening careful to keep the kids from anything that would pose more than a PG-13 rating--they'd checked and rechecked the punch, they separated those with raging hormones, they'd found lost retainers and demanded skirts be folded back down to a respectable length and finally, finally he's able to pull her to him for one quick dance.

"Come on, Betty…" he takes her hand and tries to swing her toward him, but her feet are firmly planted and she doesn't look to feel any of the excitement he does.

"Gio, no, I hate these things. I didn't even dance at my own junior high dances. I'm going to get some punch." Her posture is unshakeable, her voice tired, and her demeanor soured. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have taken notice, but he stares at her, really stares as she sips absently at the punch, dyeing her already red lips an almost violent crimson. He could try harder to be discreet, certainly, but he feels nothing but relief, finally, that Henry is gone and that he can take advantage of his time with her without fearing that she might run off at a moment's notice to appease a fearful Egg Salad. He had been gone for a week and she had blossomed again almost instantly into the girl he had first met. And now, with those lips, he can't bother the pain of resistance.

As he thinks and looks, she finishes her punch and catches him staring at her. She blushes to match her lips, which certainly doesn't help him turn away.

He sidles up to her, determined to show her how much fun she's hesitant to have. "One dance, Betty." He holds out his hand, hoping she'll take it as she once did.

"Gio…I'm serious. I hate these things." She'd be a tough one to crack, this one.

"I know you love to dance, you're being difficult. Besides, look around—the glitter, the skin—it's no different than a club, just that everyone's a little shorter." He pauses to wriggle his eyebrows. "We'll fit right in."

She smiles that gorgeous metallic smile of hers and finally, he's broken through the shell. He again takes her hand and she complies this time, her posture softer, her expression lighter. As they spin and glide, they fit perfectly together. During a little salsa, their hips move in metered time, seeking each other's with palpable magnetism. He spins her out and back to him and she laughs from her throat as he dips her. They're both smiling when she comes back until a slow song, quiet, kicks up and their smiles immediately drop to "what's next?" frowns. He raises his eyebrows to ask cautiously if she might be okay with a slow dance so soon after Henry's leaving and with her timid nod, they begin to sway.

The kids are loud, not rowdy, but excited, and the song is so soft, it's hard to make out more than a steady beat. Gio spots Hilda across the room parting two kids who had gotten a little too close and encouraging two others to venture from the sidelines. He smiles and at once, the song becomes familiar. As Toni Braxton's characteristic alto breaks out of the haze, she closes her eyes and laughs softly, almost disbelieving. He begins to broaden their movements, playing up the cheese factor of the song, but when his eyes meet hers, he realizes that now isn't especially the time for games. He changes tack, pulls her dangerously close and croons the lyrics lightly in her ear without the crazy style he once adopted to make her laugh. Her nervous breath is warm but tattered against his neck and his heart is suddenly pounding wildly. He pulls back for just a moment and again looks at her, studying her eyes, her cheekbones, that adorable nose, those saturated lips. He presses his mouth to hers just slightly without thinking and then immediately, panic sets in. He has never been nervous to kiss a girl—when he was 9, he walked straight up to Emma Border and pecked her square on the lips and promptly ran away to accept his friends' high-fives while she stayed behind to giggle soundly with her own. Kisses have always come so easily until this very moment, when he's not sure if she'll pull back to smack him, if he'll lose her friendship, if she'll think he's taking advantage, or most terrifying yet, if she'll return the kiss. He's overthinking, he realizes, and suddenly finds that her lips are pressing back with passionate force, seeming to search for something he might be hiding behind his. His hand is sturdy on her back as he holds their embrace and he relishes the heat of her skin as it radiates through to him. Her lips are so soft and her nose is so damn cute, especially as it wrestles with his for position. She smells like lilac and she tastes like fruit punch and he's become so quickly addicted.

All in all, it's a short kiss, sweet, but intense and when she pulls back, he notices her lips are bee-stung and blush red and it takes all he has not to go in for another, but the kids are starting to whistle and he shouldn't push his luck. He looks to her, searching for something in her face, but she's not giving too much away, not so publicly. Her eyes are calm, though, and she licks her lips before they morph into an honest grin as she grabs him for another salsa.

He can only hope that their next kiss and their next one and their next one might include this same sense of exploration, of passion, and of newness because the panic he endured for his spontaneity bred the most incredible sensation of peace he's ever known.


End file.
